


My Eleven O'Clock

by aschicca



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, but it's over before you know it, gapfiller for episode 3x09, tiny hint at Brian/other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aschicca/pseuds/aschicca
Summary: “Sorry, that’s my eleven o’clock.” What happened after Justin left Brian with the trick?





	My Eleven O'Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in 2009.

Arching my back, I come thanks to Justin’s skilled ministrations and then just lay there, abandoned, on my bed. In this moment, while Justin’s still laying between my legs and I’m relaxed and satisfied, I can admit it: I missed the little shit. His mouth and ass especially. And maybe… other things. But Justin’s now lying beside me so I choose not to think about the ‘other things.’

“That was fucking hot,” I say, a little out of breath after one of the best blowjobs I’ve had in a long time. Justin gives me a little smile and hits me on the hip, and I grin. “It’s just like the…” I pause while I pick up the newest issue of Rage, then continue, “…cover of your comic.” I show him said cover, on which there’s a really hot display of JT sucking Rage’s cock. Rage’s expression is of extreme pleasure… I can relate to that.

I have to laugh at the way Justin smiles and covers his face with his hands. He’s kind of adorable, but I did not just think that so there’s no point in even considering this thought.

“Michael finally agreed to go with it,” Justin says. “Even if we do get arrested.”

“Well, what kind of artist are you if you don’t?” I ask jokingly, and Justin looks at me and smiles. A playful smile that makes me want to pinch his ass. Which I do.

Justin turns towards me, raises my arm placing it around his neck, then kisses me softly. And my hand, acting on its own volition, caresses his hair – I think the lad might have sucked part of my brain through my cock tonight. The kiss could turn into something more but a knock on the door interrupts us. 

I sigh. I had almost forgotten the trick. That’s what Justin’s presence does to me and that’s exactly the reason why I invited this guy tonight. I have allowed Justin back in my life – and I ignore the voice in my head shouting, “That’s bullshit, Kinney, and you know it!” – but this doesn’t mean he has rights on me. I’m nobody’s boyfriend, I fuck whoever I want, whenever I want. And if I want to kick Justin out of my bed and fuck a random trick, I don’t have to ask for permission.

“Sorry, that’s my eleven o’clock.” I inform Justin and he just has to accept it. And then I bow down and kiss his lips because I simply can’t help myself. I better fucking kick the little twat out of my apartment soon, before my own body betrays me.

I leave the bed and throw on a pair of jeans without buttoning them – why bother? Before going to open the door though, I briefly look at Justin. He’s visibly disappointed but he’s not about to complain… and for some reason, that disturbs me. He shouldn’t put up with my bullshit! Even if I want him to, even if maybe I keep pushing him to see how he’ll react. Because it’s possible that he’s not sure yet, and that in time he’ll understand that roses, chocolate, and fucking violins are what he wants. What he deserves. So I push, and push, and push. How long will it take before he leaves me again?

Shaking my head, I make my way to the door and slide it open. The semi-cute guy that’s on the other end smiles at me but I can’t force myself to return the smile, so I simply gesture for him to come in. He says something about how nice my place is and I joke about having “tours at every hour,” before pointing him in the direction of the bed.

And then the trick spots Justin and asks, surprised, “Who’s he?”

Justin regards him with what looks like pity and I almost leave out a laugh. “Uhm, that’s a difficult question to answer given the limitations of the language, the conventionality of most people’s thinking,” I say and Justin looks at me grinning. “Uh, let’s just say he’s the guy I fuck more than once?” I actually end on a questioning note and I stare into Justin’s eyes the whole time. I’m talking to him, not to the trick. I’m almost _asking_ him, hoping he’ll understand what I’m saying. What the hell is wrong with me?

I start getting pissed with myself but then Justin turns to look at the trick and, with a smug smile, says, “Unlike you,” then laughs and kisses me goodbye. He understood, and I hate how relieved that makes me feel.

Yet, I can’t help but looking at Justin’s retreating back and stare until he closes the door behind himself. The trick is still waiting, probably sensing my hesitation, so I point to him the bedroom again and he goes.

I follow, slowly, and once there I stop to look at him. He starts to undress and I… I leave him there and go to the bathroom. Somehow I don’t feel good in having this trick touch the same skin where Justin’s own touch still lingers, so I decide a quick shower is in order. The trick can wait, they can all wait.

I let the hot water run over me while I wash away the memory of Justin’s hands, Justin’s mouth, Justin. He doesn’t own me, I’m not his. I’m no one’s property. I may fuck him more than once but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy fucking a million of other guys in between. He needs to understand that… and I need to stop thinking about all this.

Shaking my head, I shut off the water and step out of the shower stall. Since I didn’t close the bathroom door before showering, I find myself staring into the trick’s eyes. He’s lying naked on my bed and smiles at me. 

“You’re so hot,” he tells me, making me want to roll my eyes. “So wet and dripping. You make me thirsty… I want to lick the water off your chest. For starters.”

Despite his cheesy talk, this guy’s hot so I nod, and he comes towards me. I watch him while he kneels in front of me, having apparently decided to skip my chest and go straight for my cock. He takes me in his mouth and I close my eyes… and all I see is Justin. Justin’s face while he was sucking me off just a moment before, Justin’s hair covering his eyes and brushing my cock while he took it deeper, Justin’s hand gripping me tight and anchoring me, Justin’s smile when I lifted his head to look at him and have him look at me… almost like I couldn’t believe he was really there, that I had him back. Justin’s smell, Justin’s lips, Justin’s…

“Stop!” I tell the trick and I push him off my cock. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I just changed my mind. Put your clothes back on and get the fuck out.” I turn my back to him. I don’t want to look at him while he tells me that I’m an…

“Asshole! I should have listened to what people told me about you. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

I don’t bother replying, I just grab a towel and start drying myself while the trick dresses and, after throwing another insult at me, finally fucks the hell off.

Tying the towel to my hips, I get back to my bedroom and light a cigarette. I’m trying to decide if I should bother dressing up and going to have a drink somewhere, or just go to sleep early for once, when I see them. Justin’s underwear on the floor. It looks like the kid forgot a crucial piece of clothing while dressing himself.

Grinning, I pick up the phone and dial Justin’s number.

“Hey,” Justin answers not masking his surprise at my calling.

“Guess who’s running around town with no underwear, Sunshine?”

Justin laughs and I feel it wash over me. “You found them? I thought you would be too busy to notice them till tomorrow.”

“You mean you left them on purpose?”

“Maybe?” He’s grinning, I can _feel_ it. The little shit!

“Well, I don’t want your dirty laundry lying around in my loft so you better come back and pick them up. Now.”

“Now? But, Brian, I almost arrived at Daphne’s, and don’t you have company anyway?”

“Kicked him out.”

“You seem to do that a lot tonight.”

What? What did he say? So maybe he’s not as complacent as I thought he was, is he? “What did you just say?” I ask out loud.

“Why did you kick that guy out, Brian?” Justin asks instead of replying to me. “He was hot.”

“Bored me. Come back here and entertain me.” Jesus, did I really said that? I sound like a whiny five years-old. What the fuck?

Justin giggles and I’m tempted to hang up on him. Actually, I’m about to but then he talks again. “If I come back there now, I want something in return.”

Good, now we’re a pair of five year-olds. I sigh, “Look, Justin, come back here or don’t. Enough with this shit.”

“You started it, Brian. Should I remind you who called who?”

“Whatever. See you when I see you.” This time I really hang up on him, and I throw the phone on the bedside table. I have no idea what’s happening to me but I refuse to keep acting like I’m begging him to come back.

I sit on the bed, glaring at Justin’s underwear still on the floor, then I spot something else beside them. Rage. I pick up the issue and stare at the cover for a while: JT defrosting Rage with the “world’s hottest blowjob” to use Michael’s words. I wonder if it’s the same thing Justin has done to me tonight. It would definitely explain my lesbionic behaviour. 

The sound of the door opening distracts me and I’m surprised to see Justin entering the loft again.

“You really are an asshole, aren’t you? Why the fuck did you hang up on me that way?”

I shrug, and he rolls his eyes. He undresses slowly, making a show of it, and I hate that I don’t seem to be able to look away. Why the hell did I make him go out of bed the first time? I could be fucking him for the third time right this moment, and I never would have made a fool of myself. 

Justin’s fully naked now and he lies back on the bed. He stretches on it and grins at me. I drop the comic I was still holding and lie on my back beside him. I have no intention of making the first move, and I act like I don’t really care if he stays or goes.

Obviously, he knows better – I think my extremely hard cock might have been a hint – because he straddles my body and lies completely on me, holding my wrists above my head.  
“I told you if I came back I wanted something in return, didn’t I?” He asks rubbing his ass on my cock.

“Ok, I’m feeling generous. You can ride me.”

Justin laughs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant. But I guess I could do that too…”

“How kind of you…” I smirk, and he winks playfully.

None of us can keep their smile a moment later, though, when, after slipping a condom on me, Justin finally sits on my cock. Fuck! His ass is so tight and I can’t help but groan and arch my back. 

“Don’t move,” Justin says, breathless. “This is my show…”

It’s hard to stay still but I do as Justin asks because I want to watch him. I never told him, and I suppose I never will, but the sight of Justin fucking himself on me, the sight of him deciding the rhythm and the pace, the sight of his face, a mixture of concentration and ecstasy, makes me so hot I almost can’t bear it.

So I lie there, and watch him. He starts slowly; his eyes closed, his head thrown back, Justin raises up until just the head of my cock is inside him, then lowers himself down again… slowly. It’s almost like he’s caressing me with his muscles, and it drives me crazy. My eyes fight to remain open because, if it’s true I’d like to shut everything else out and just _feel_ , it’s also true that I can’t bear not to look at him. 

Justin keeps this pace for long, torturous minutes until we both can’t stand it anymore… and then everything changes. He becomes frantic, almost violent, slamming down on me and clenching his ass in the way that makes me understand he’s very close to coming. He moans my name over and over again and I hear my voice answering him. “Justin… fuck… Justin!”

One last thrust of his hips and we both come, screaming, gasping for air, breathing hard. Then Justin collapses on me and I hold him there, my cock still inside him, one of my hands in his hair, the other cupping one asscheek.

We lay like that for a while, before Justin shifts until he’s now just halfway on me. One leg between mine, his head on my chest. I think I might have started to drift off because his voice comes as a surprise to me.

“Don’t you want to know what I meant?”

I look at him like he has just grown another head and don’t bother replying. So he speaks again. “When I said that I wanted something for coming back here. Don’t you want to know what I wanted?”

“I thought you’d already got what you came for.”

He shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. There’s something I want even more than your cock.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.” But I can, I actually can and… fuck! He had promised. In my office, he said he understood what I wanted from him and what he could expect from me. Why is he doing this now? Why is he starting with that love bullshit again? Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he know that I… can’t…

“Stop it, Brian, or you’ll give yourself a heart attack. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

Justin looks at me with an expression that says, “Yeah, right,” and then kisses me softly on the lips. “What I want even more than your cock right now is… food!”

Okay, so maybe I was about to give myself a heart attack because suddenly? My heart rate returns to normal and I start to breathe again.

“What a surprise,” I deadpan. “And what exactly do you want me to do about it?”

“Feed me. And don’t you dare say what you’re about to say, Brian.”

I grin and tell him that there’s cheese in the fridge and he can have some with the crackers if he wants.

“Cheese? With _crackers_? Since when do you buy cheese and crackers?”

“Do you want to eat or stay here and play 20 questions?” Like I’m going to tell you I bought them for you. My lesbionic phase hasn’t turned me into a pathetic lovesick puppy, yet. I visibly shudder at the thought.

Justin goes to put his greedy hands on the cheese, and I decide to follow him. I’m not hungry but I can’t seem to shake myself off this “let’s watch Justin” thing I started tonight.

“What?” The lad asks me when he notices I’m standing there staring at him.

“Nothing. I decided you’re not bad for an “eleven o’clock” trick. Maybe you could come again tomorrow, same time?”

“Oh so now _I’m_ the eleven o’clock? How convenient. And what if I’m not available at eleven tomorrow night? What if I don’t want to be an eleven o’clock?”

“Ok, you can come at nine.” I say tongue in cheek.

He just laughs.


End file.
